The Art and Love of Food

My husband gets home late and as the dinner hour approaches, it is always my hope that he will come home in time for dinner. I love to cook and cooking is almost like art - you put things together to create something that is pleasing to the eye as well as the palate. And what art can entices you, calls you, and previews you with your senses like a meal that is cooking? The ears perch to the methodical chopping, the controlled snapping of hot oil, the hidden foiled sizzling of a roast in the oven... and what is more alive than my rice cooker dancing as the foamy bubbles find their way through the top? The nose, if it could, would salivate at the savory richness of an entree perfecting itself with heat, or the sweetness of an indulgent dessert, much like a Yankee Candle that you can eat. I love cooking and I love food. Unfortunately, this love is put aside for me because children of 2 and 4 seem to narrow their food preferences as their awareness and independence increases. I'm sure this will turn around as they get older, but as of now, they will not dance in the chopping, sauteing and devouring of my cared for cooking. And since my husband isn't home for dinner often, this love is solitary most of the time. But maybe that will work because I only have to aim to please myself.
Still, I find this kind of selfish art is less fulfilling, less satisfying than the art of giving, and sharing. The art that can be displayed by someone on their wall, to which they can smile at and adore, is liken to the smile and compliment of someone you love gaining sustenance, comfort, energy, and essentially life, from the artful meal that you cooked.
Food is so much more than just food. It is what goes into it, the micro ingredients, the things you taste but cant see, the things you love but cant identify, the healthful attributes of the ingredients, the culture it represents, or the creativity of fusion. Food is life, and gathering around food brings lives to life.
I guess this is why I love food.

North vs. South

Louisiana is different from New York. This is assumed from all the stereotypes, and this is quite obvious when you have lived in both places. And I think it is even more apparent in this city we're in because it is a Northern, rural LA town with a population of about 20K as compared to the southern LA city we lived in with a population of 100K. There is a website www.peopleofwalmart.com and it illustrates all the different creatures you may find at Walmarts across the country. And not to say that the creatures after 8pm and on the weekend in NY are not strange, but if you transplanted the creatures of the benign hours of the daylight here in this rural, northern bayou town, you might be scared. Everyone, and I mean everyone hunts. So 50% of the folks in Walmart are rockin' the camo. And not that trendy camo that we northerners like to use as an accent article of clothing - you may mistakenly weed whack them with their camo printed with life-like sticks, trees and leaves. They look like a walking piece of woods. So that's 50% of the people. This is a college town, so there is another 25% is composed of half young people wearing shorts (I don't know how youth can wear shorts at all times of the year and not be cold. Was I one of them?) and a category I'll call other which includes myself. My middle aged, child-toting, non-hunting ass is a minority here, I guess. Hunting is not too familiar for me, but I think I could surely like this sport for the pure fact that I get to eat the fruits of my labor. That is right up my alley! Every house has a pick up, an ATV in the back of the truck bed or near it, and a dead deer carcass either draped over the ATV in the back, or chopped up into deer sausage in their freezer or mine. (Yes I have fresh deer sausage in my freezer given to Tom by a co-working hunter waiting to be enjoyed :) Oh and everyone has a gun. So the 'don't mess with Texas' slogans extend to much of the south and definitely this actively hunting, red state.
And we all know the drawl. And since my kids have taken a liking to the Toy Story series of movies just before coming down here, they have adopted the drawl for fun, but they actually sound like the grew up here. I try to correct them - really its all Gabby, "not day-yoown, just DOWN, one syllable. Not they-air, say THERE". I guess we're doomed once she starts school.

It's different here from where I grew up, but it has lots of character and people like it here. They pride their live oaks like I pride my Hudson River. They drool over craw fish and dirty rice like I pine for Brooklyn pizza and Jewish bagels. I love it all and I love to take it all in and experience what is someone elses' normal. It is stimulating to walk through the Walmart - what is better than that! This is life.

Every House Tells a Story

As I exist in this house, I am taking in their choices in wall paper, color, and other architectural and design things and I realize that a house says alot about a person. Are they afraid to make bold choices, or are they fearless? Do they like bold and big furniture and structures, or safe bets that they wont get sick of? Do they choose quality and put together everything completely, or do they skimp here and there just to get it done and move on? Are they that attentive to detail? The only variable to my amature character description of the previous owners is that some things like the lighting- I don't know if it is a crazy, unusual choice, or if it is something common to the French Provincial, Louisiana architecture. And other things, like a separate ice making machine in the kitchen - is this common in nice homes, or down here because it's hot, or is this something this couple has always wanted and finally put it in the home they planned out together.
I think this couple was not afraid of bold choices, and was family oriented. I think they cared less if some crayon got on the floor or some nail polish splashed on the cabinet. I think they also didn't care if the dishwasher didn't fit quite right and you had to thrust it with your hip as you closed it each time. I think husband and wife wanted their privacy and some romantic comforts, but they also wanted their children to be happy and enjoy themselves. I can tell which areas are frequented by a man and which walls have looked mostly upon a women. It is interesting to infer all this, but also very limited because this house is but a chapter, or even the titles of the chapters of a book, with all the words and pages and content missing to make it all make sense. I can take this house that we are moving into now and make my inferences while comparing it to the equivalent in our own house in New York, because our house says quite a bit about us. I think I make pretty good sense.
So yes, there are left over imprints of mess and signs of life in this house. But as I always used to say to justify my mess as a teenager, a mess simply says that you were focused on other things. (or maybe its that you don't care, but I like to think the latter is true for most) So it is true now that I would have tried to scrape off the nail polish on my nice bathroom cabinets, or use a magic eraser to clean up my children's destruction, I hope that this couple did not because they were so engaged in each other and the family that that was the last thing from their mind.

My Son is Pinkalicious

We arrived in our new (but not new) house that we will be renting. It is bigger than I would want but it is hard to find a whole house to rent for a decent price. The house is beautiful and has some lovely french and southern flare, as is common and endeared to in Louisiana. However, the previous owner chose some interesting colors for some of the rooms that I am left to work with. And since Gabby had the bigger room in NY, we thought Marco should have the bigger room here. The only problem is that the bigger room was previously meant for a girl and is a happy girly turquoise. And the bathroom off it is a happy girly pink with a pink vanity, pink wall paper, pink shower curtain and crystal knobs. This bathroom joins the two girly bedrooms, the smaller on in happy green for Gabby and the larger one in happy turquoise for Marco, so Marco is screwed either way.

Come to think of it now as I'm writing this... I have them alternate who picks a book to read before we go to bed at night and two choices in a row, Marco has picked the book Pinkalicious to read. This is really Gabby's book all about a little girl who turned pink. Hmm. Interesting choice. Among all the books we have with all the key players in his life - Elmo, Diego, Woody, Pooh... I would even understand Dora, who can be a bit of a unindulge

nt tom boy at times, but no, he chooses Pinkalicious...twice. Besides the times that Gabby has chosen this pink book herself. Maybe he feels right at home surrounded by pink and cheerful turquoise.

(not that there is anything wrong with that...)

Anyway, I will boy up his room as much as possible and since i hate taking down wall paper (and this isn't our house) he'll have to get comfortable with his feminine, pinkalicous side while down south.
Or my husband will just hang up posters of trucks, cars, hammers, footballs, dragons, pirates, and various blue collar, civil service workers to compensate for the softer floral influences up there.
(not that he thinks there is anything wrong with that...)

:)

Tossing Cookies

Prior to flying down to LA I packed up two boxes full of Xmas toys that the kids didn't open yet and sent them down here. It cost me $13 per box and i justified that with the $25/per checked bag fee on the airlines. I sent the box to our friends house down here and they arrived the day before we did - it worked out great!
Marco got a fever the day before we flew, it must have been a little virus. So on the first flight, as the plane was descending, our feverish little man threw up on himself twice. As I was cautiously holding a bag up near his mouth, he told me he doesn't want to do that again so I can put the bag down. Since I am a year or so out from the baby phases, I did not pack any extra cloths in my carry on bag for him so we bought him a new shirt in the huge Atlanta airport. I guess he made out OK. And despite the vomit that didn't stink too bad relative to vomit, it didn't get on the car seat he was sitting in, and it didn't get on me. Plus, sick, lethargic babies make for easy travel companions, as opposed to normal terrible two year old behavior in confined spaces. I'd say we made out OK too. So he could either toss his cookies, so to speak, or literally throw his cookies, or goldfish as it was across the plane because that is what cranky kids do. But with our version of cookie tossing, at least you feel bad for the kid, where as with the other goldfish tosser, you just want to pull your hair out and toss them out the window. And the people in front of me should be happy too because he would undoubtedly be kicking their seat for 2.5 hours with me negotiating with him why that is not a good idea, instead, they now have a breaking heart for the poor baby who vomited because of the pressure changes on the descent (His vomit timing made a lovely presentation breeding empathy, but I hope he didn't pass along his virus to these unsuspecting fellow flyers)

Free Agent!

So after almost two years, I put in my resignation from my job and I am now a free agent! We are planning to move to Louisiana around May so I will be getting ready for that and spending some much enjoyed time with my husband and kids. I do not yet miss working, but when we do finally move, I would like to work part time.
We have not had it easy this past couple years and I hope for things to be a bit more peaceful going forward.
With my first chunk of time that i have in front of me in which i do not have to ask someone if I can go somewhere or not, the kids and I are flying to LA to see where Tom has been working and check out the house we decided to rent. Wish us luck...flying is always fun with kids as well as a big empty house with no toys and no routine...